Unsteady
by lindsayandhalstead
Summary: The aftermath of Jay leaving in 4x17, and their slow way back to each other.


**A/N: I've been neglecting my FF account for long enough, so I've decided to post all my Linstead stories on here as well. Some of you might recognize this from tumblr. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know! Reviews always inspire me to write more.**

* * *

She needs a couple of minutes after he leaves. Only then does it sink in. The silence in the apartment catches up with her, and the stunned face is replaced by pain that shocks her. She needs approximately fifteen minutes after that to convince herself that this is just temporary−that he did not just walk out the door forever. She even checks the wardrobe to make sure there are still his things left in there.

She lets herself have one good cry, because honestly, she's frustrated, and she doesn't understand anything anymore. She's never had this kind of relationship before, with feelings, so she has no idea how it's supposed to work. Does she give him space until he comes back? Does she fight for him? Do they talk at work? Do they pretend everything is okay at work?

She lets the tears fall after a long week of uncertainty. Confronting Jay was hard, but she's glad she did it. There is no room left for secrets. Not at that point.

Then she pulls herself together, takes a shower, and pulls the pillows out of the closet. She hasn't had the need for them lately, but tonight, she knows she will. She prepares herself for a long night of tossing and turning in a bed that is too empty. Instead, she falls into deep sleep, almost as if her body was giving her what she needs. There are no bad dreams, no dreams at all. Just sleep.

* * *

She forces herself to eat, instead of just gulping down coffee. She realizes now, that the night before wasn't the hardest part. It's this. It's the morning, when she has to go to the precinct, not knowing how she's supposed to act, or even what the status of their relationship is.

She makes her way past Platt, murmuring a rushed hello. She tries to hide her nerves in the break room, barely putting her things down before heading in for a cup of coffee. And walks directly into him.

"Hey," he murmurs, his arms instinctively steadying her.

"Hey." She looks down, because she knows looking up into his baby blues won't do her any good. "Need coffee," she murmurs, squeezing past him to get to the counter, just to see a mug of steaming hot liquid, prepared just the way she likes it.

And after the past night of feeling uncertain and unsteady, it means everything.

* * *

They're in the car, and it's never been this quiet.

It suffocates her in a way she didn't know was possible. The feeling of unsteadiness has permanently inhabited her body, and settled at the bottom of her stomach, so nothing she eats or drinks feels right anymore.

Her face is leaning on the cold window, as he drives, and she watches buildings past them by.

"I don't even know, am I even allowed to talk to you?" She wishes she could make the enormous knot in her throat disappear, so she could talk normally. She hates that she even has to ask him this, but she can't stand any more silence between them.

"Yes. Always."

So she tells him about the most unimportant things she can think off. Stuff she heard on the radio on her way to work, and the gossip going around the precinct. He laughs, and tells her how Will burned breakfast twice that morning. For the duration of the ride they pretend everything is fine. He's not married, and he didn't move out, and they're just two partners talking on route to the crime scene.

Somehow, it's enough to get her through the day.

* * *

Wednesday is the hardest for Erin. They had this stupid tradition, since they started dating, that on Wednesdays, they would buy a muffin, and split it in half. They always did it, and it was silly, but it was _their thing._ They've fought before, sure, bickered, more than once, and they've always split the muffin. But it's different this time.

Still. Erin buys a muffin. Blueberry chocolate−his favourite−and sets half of it on his desk, before he even makes it to work that morning. If nothing else, she thinks, it can serve as a subtle reminder that she's there, and she's not going anywhere. He's fought for her before, now it's her time to fight.

The smile she gets when he unwraps the bag is worth it.

* * *

They try to hide it, but the unit picks up on the subtle signs of something off between them. They never comment on it, but funny enough, they try to make it easier on them. She has a feeling that Voight knows, but he never says anything, and she is beyond grateful for that.

She doesn't need any reminders.

He takes her out for breakfast instead, treating her to a gigantic pile of chocolate pancakes.

"You'll bankrupt me. I forgot how to scarf these down."

"Shut up." She's allowed, because she's depressed, and chocolate supposedly helps.

They talk about everything, between fits of laughter, until it's time to go to work. She feels like at least one of the things in her life is normal again.

* * *

She walks into the locker room one day, after a particularly tough case, and she's just so ready to take her stuff and leave, but of course he's there, all soft and warm and beautiful.

He feels her approach, and she can see his muscles tense underneath his t-shirt. She sighs, allowing herself a weak moment. She'll go back to being strong, but this one moment, she's allowed to feel everything.

"I miss you," she whispers, her voice breaking. She puts all of her sadness, all of her longing, her desperation and frustration into those three words. It feels liberating to finally say it out loud. The whole truth, and nothing but.

At first, she thinks he didn't even hear her, because he just stands there, not moving. She's about to leave when he finally replies.

"I know."

He faces her, making her look into his eyes this time by bringing her chin up, so she can see she's not the only one longing. She's not the only one suffering. His hand is on her cheek, reminding her of another heart-breaking moment they shared in the same spot, what seems like years ago. She just stands there, ever so still.

He drops his hand in defeat.

That is when her arms wrap around him without a second thought. She's not sure she's allowed to kiss him. Not sure what this space is supposed to be. Not sure what he needs from her. All she knows is that he pulls her closer, breathing her in for a second, and she thinks that hug alone is enough to keep her going no matter how long he needs.

She wants to tell him she needs him. She needs all of him; the darkness and sadness and weakness included. She needs the Jay that brought out the best of her.

But she pushes her needs aside, and forces herself to be the one to end the hug.

"I'll be here. However long it takes."

She doesn't even let the words sink in before leaving. So he doesn't see her break. So he doesn't see her cry.

* * *

The first text comes a day after their locker room hug.

 **E: What was the name of that laundry detergent I liked?**

He ignores it at first, feeling mighty guilty for it. But if he falls into this playful banter with her again, he'll end up at their place kissing her until there is nothing left but her soft skin, and her welcoming arms.

 **J: The Tide one.**

Because he can't risk her destroying their clothes, is what he tells himself. The next one comes a couple of hours.

 **E: That movie you like is on TV.**

He rolls his eyes at the text, and doesn't reply, but turns on the TV to find the movie she's talking about. Somehow the thought of her watching the same movie makes it even better.

It actually makes him feel better. Like she's not forgetting about him.

 **E: Blackhawks beat the Stars by 1.**

He knows. He watched the game. But it still makes him smile that she thought of him.

 **J: Can you bring me the jacket to work tomorrow?**

 **J: The blue one, with the red lining?**

 **E: No.**

 **E: Go get it yourself.**

 **E: You still have the key, don't you?**

So he goes to find it himself that night, after already having a beer and a short one. They fight. It's their first fight where they yell and say things neither of them means, and it's horrible.

He ends up leaving things ever worse, and when he walks through the door, he feels he's leaving his whole heart with her.

* * *

She doesn't hear the door open, or the strong footsteps, or the worried calls. She feels strong arms around her, and she knows it's Hank by the way he holds her, and by the way he smells. Her words are a flood on unconnected sentences, but somehow, she manages to convey to him that Jay left, and she doesn't know if he's coming back this time.

She lets him comfort her, just like he did when she was a teenager. His arms are so strong. She used to imagine they can hold up the whole world.

Right now, it's enough that they just hold her.

* * *

She's used to her phone ringing in the middle of the night. It happens every time a new case comes up. Criminals don't have regular hours. So she's not surprised when her phone buzzes. Assuming it's Hank, she doesn't even check called ID and answers.

"Erin? It's Will. I think you should come over."

She doesn't even wait for an explanation, and jumps out of bed. Something is wrong with Jay.

She manages to tell him she's on her way, before putting her winter coat over her pyjamas and rushing to the car. It's freezing cold outside still. The winter just won't end.

Will opens on the first knock, and she sees why he's called her. Jay is standing in the middle of the room. He reminds her of a spooked animal, flinching at every noise.

"Be careful," Will warns her, but she's not afraid. She's been afraid of many things in life, but never of Jay. "There was an explosion nearby, I think it's what triggered him. We tried everything. He won't calm down."

She approaches him slowly. "Jay? Can you hear me? It's okay, you're home."

His eyes find hers, and she can feel his breathing normalizing. She attempts to touch him, and when he doesn't react she pulls him against her. "You're home. It's okay." He shakes his head, as if the bad dream, or the bad reality he's been in, has finally left his mind.

And he doesn't even know which home she's referring to, but he knows that home for him will always be her.

"I'm so sorry." He breaks down then, all the suppressed feeling coming up to the surface. All the demons he's been trying to hide from her, appear in all their ugliness. He never wanted her to see him like this. So broken.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He wanted to be strong for her, but when he feels her arms, holding him together, he thinks that maybe he doesn't have to be strong _all_ the time.

He vaguely notices that Will and Nina have moved into the kitchen, giving him, or them, privacy. He vaguely registers the tears that seem to be pouring down his face. What is not in any way vague, is Erin. She's there. In every word, every touch, every scent.

He lets her steady him.

He lets her be his anchor.

He doesn't know how long it takes for him to calm down, but he feels Erin dragging him up, explaining to Will that she's taking him home, with her, where he belongs. Apparently, his brother doesn't object, because he can feel her putting his jacket in his hands and directing him towards the exit.

He lets her guide him to the car.

He lets her guide him home.

* * *

"I'll stay on the couch," he insists, already decided he's not going back to sleep. That's where the demons are waiting, and he's not going to give them the satisfaction.

She surprises him when she doesn't fight him, b sits down on the couch next to him, not even touching, but still there, still close. Then her hand reaches over, and he lets his fingers lace with hers.

He's intent on not going to sleep, but his demons have exhausted him, and his eyes close against his will. He waits for the bad dreams to come, but they never do.

Instead, he dreams of her.

* * *

He can't remember the last time he's felt so rested. His mind no longer foggy, he looks around. His head is resting in a familiar lap. He can feel her soft fingers, brushing through his hair. She's not aware he's no longer sleeping, but he's surprised she is awake as well. She stayed all night watching over him.

He knows exactly the moment she sees his eyes are open, because her fingers still for a second, before continuing the soothing strokes.

"Did you sleep?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to say something. Anything to break the silence that has settled between them in the last couple of days. The silence he is to blame for.

She shakes her head. "I'm okay."

He gets up slowly, shaking the drowsiness out of his eyes. His hair is tousled, and sticking into the direction she'd brushed them in.

"I'm sorry," he starts." I screwed up." He's finally feeling to fully extent how wrong of him it was to push her away, and try to deal with this alone. "I always pushed you to talk to me. And I never did the same."

"I'm sorry I never told you about Abby. I think I was just trying to pretend it wasn't real. Because it wasn't me. I don't want to be the guy to gets drunk in Vegas and gets married. When she contacted me, I panicked. But I should've been honest since the beginning. You've always been honest with me." Sometimes brutally honest, but she never lied.

"I just wanted to be there for you, like you've been there for me."

Her words hurt, they hurt somewhere deep inside of him, because the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt the person he loves the most.

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't let you."

"The worst part was, I wasn't sure you were coming back," she admits.

"Always." Because there was never a doubt in his mind that he would come back to her.

Their lips finally meet in a long-awaited kiss. It's sweet, and soft and tender. It's filled with sorrow, and tears, and even desperation. But most importantly, it heals. Her fingers settle on the back of his neck, where they belong, and he pulls her into his lap.

"I just didn't want to hurt you. These nightmares…"

"Shhh." She puts a finger over his lips, stroking his cheek with her other hand. "I can handle bad dreams, Jay. I can handle a lot. But I can't handle you leaving again." Her voice cracks despite her attempts to remain calm.

He sees it then. How deeply he has hurt her, by walking through that door, not once, but twice. How deeply his words, and his silence have wounded her. He knows he will do anything and everything to repair the damage he's caused.

"No more leaving. I promise."

They talk for hours, never separating. They have a lot of lost time to make up for.

There is a steadiness between them now that wasn't there before. Because they know that even though sometimes they'll get messy and complicated and fucked up, they'll hold on.

And they will never let go.


End file.
